(Chorus) 'Poverty poverty knock,' my loom is a-saying all day Poverty poverty knock, gaffer's too skinny to pay Poverty poverty knock, keeping one eye on the clock I know I can guttle when I hear my shuttle go, 'poverty poverty knock'
Up every morning at five I wonder that we keep alive Tired and yawning another cold morning It's back to the dreary old drive
(chorus)
Oh dear we're going to be late Gaffer is stood at the gate We're out of pocket our wages they'll docket We'll have to buy grub on the slate
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And when all our wages they'll bring We're often short of a string While we are fratching with gaffer for snatching We know to his brass he will cling
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Sometimes a shuttle flies out And gives some poor woman a clout There she lies bleeding but nobody's heeding Oh who's going to carry her out?
(chorus)
Oh dear, my poor head it sings I should have woven three strings But threads are breaking and my back is aching Oh dear how I wish I had wings